


Dynamic Duo

by xthe_dreamerx



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7124602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xthe_dreamerx/pseuds/xthe_dreamerx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are only three things that Lydia Martin can't stand, and she's forced to spend most of her life with the bane of her existence. Or, when Stiles Stilinski and Lydia Martin hate each other, but their parents think they're best friends so they set up play dates, camping trips, and weekly dinners for their whole lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dynamic Duo

There are only three things that Lydia Martin can’t stand.

One is the smell of peppermint. While most people find the scent sweet and addictive, Lydia finds it as foul and disgusting. One whiff of the thing, and she would be running for the toilet. Her eyes get all watery and she can feel everything that she had eaten that day start to climb up her throat only to be exited out of her mouth, hopefully into the toilet if she gets there soon enough.

There are only two times that she has thrown up in public because of peppermint. Once was in kindergarten during Christmas. Her class was having a Christmas party the last day before winter break, everyone bringing in a snack to share with the class.

Lydia had spent the whole week coming up with the best treat to share with her classmates. In kindergarten, the strawberry blonde wasn’t as popular as she is now. She was shy and usually stayed in the corner of the playground, reading books on multiplication and compound sentences. She spent all night with her mother baking red velvet cupcakes with white frosting, decorated with glittered snowflake sprinkles. They were beautiful and would send any cupcake shop into a fit of jealousy.

She got to school that day, dressed in a beautiful emerald green dress with long sleeves and sparkles all over it along with a pair of black Mary Jane flats and white tights, her strawberry blonde hair pushed back by a sparkly, black head band. The Martin girl carried three cake boxes worth of cupcakes through the front doors while her shoulders were covered by a snow white pea coat.

The party had started and she was just setting up all of her cupcakes on their own special table, when a boy with shaggy brown hair and puppy dog eyes came up to her, waving a tin of some sort of candy in her face. She got one measly little whiff of the stuff, and her stomach had already felt like it was about to explode.

Peppermint bark.

She panicked. The bile was traveling up her esophagus, threatening to spill out all over the classroom. She put her hands over her mouth to try and stop it from coming and tried to get to a trashcan, but the stupid boy was still in front of her, blocking her escape and shoving the tin farther in her face.

So, she did the only thing she could. She turned away from the boy, and, sadly, threw up all over her beautiful cupcakes that she stayed up all night making.

Lydia was devastated and cried the rest of the day, after she was sent home by the nurse. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t still mad about it.

Society is something that has always bothered Lydia, even when she was younger. People feel like they have to live up to these impossibly high standards because of what society thinks people should be. They want you to be okay with everything they think is okay, and they criticize you when you voice your opinion of why you don’t agree.

They have this image of a perfect body, making sure to shame you if you don’t look exactly the way they think you should look. You’re a disappointment to the human race if for one second you stand out the least bit, showing off why you’re different. But then you’re reprimanded for it, and you instantly go to stand back in line.

They try to make you fall prey to their trap of turning girls into emotionally insecure neurotics, who pull up their dresses at the first flattering remark. If you don’t say yes, you’re a prude. If you don’t say no, you’re easy. There’s no in between. You’re either or in their eyes.

It makes her sick.

And last and certainly least, the number one thing that pesters Lydia so far deep into her inner being, she feels as if she’ll explode any time she sees his stupid, mole covered face.

Stiles Stilinski.

Just the mere thought of his name makes the girl seethe with rage. Since they were four years old, the boy has gotten on her mind every time he opens his mouth, and he’s noticed. He takes pride in it. And he makes it his personal mission to go out of his way to make sure she’s thoroughly annoyed.

And it works.

Sadly, the two teenagers’ parents think that they’re the best of friends. When they were younger, they would set up play dates for the two every Saturday afternoon at one thirty p.m. All Lydia could remember from those was the two of them helping Stiles’ mom, Claudia, help make the chocolate chip cookies that she wished she could have again, but never will.

When they got to middle school, the two preteens and their fathers would go on an annual camping trip right before school started up again in August for three days. Three days of pure and utter torture. The two fathers would sleep in one tent while they made the other two sleep in a tent together. Lydia’s father wasn’t worried about anything happening between the two, because he thought they were best friends. He was sadly mistaken. Not about anything happening, but about them being best friends. Gross.

He would play pranks on her all weekend. Putting bugs in her bag, slipping a worm into her water, taking her clothes after she showered in the only bathroom in the camping complex. The older men thought it was just playful fun, but little did they know, it was war between their two children.

Once high school arrived, it turned into a weekly dinner at the Martin household every Friday night. Mandatory, much to the two teens’ displeasure. There were many other things that Lydia would rather be doing on a Friday night than sitting across the dinner table from Stiles Stilinski. But, it was fun to watch him wince every time she kicked him with her heel clad foot. And he couldn’t do anything about it. Not in front of their parents.

Which leads her up to tonight. It’s a random Friday in March. She’s slowly counting down the days until she graduates, waiting for that last Friday dinner before she heads off to Stanford three hours away, never having to lay eyes on the stupid Stiles Stilinski every again. At least, she can only hope.

“Lydia! Hurry up! The Stilinski’s will be here any minute!” Natalie Martin yells from the downstairs of their quite large house.

The younger Martin rolls her eyes, smoothing down the navy, floral skirt that adorns her lower half as she looks in the full body mirror that hangs on the wall next to her vanity. She adjusts the white ruffled crop top that sits on her shoulders. With a quick glance at how amazing her legs look in her new white heels and a pucker of her lightly glossed, pale pink lips, she walks out of her bedroom, shutting the light off behind her.

She steps off the last stair just as the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of the Stilinski’s. Lydia rolls her eyes as her mother happily goes to answer the door, revealing the Sheriff and his highly annoying son.

Mrs. Martin and Mr. Stilinski share a brief hug before she moves on to Stiles. The Sheriff walks over to Lydia, holding his arms out wide. With a smile, Lydia walks over to the older man, wrapping her arms around his torso. She has nothing against the man. She loves him as if he were her father—he tends to be a better one than her own—it’s just his son she’s got a problem with.

As she pulls away from the older man, she sees Stiles standing a few feet behind him, his arms open wide as a smirk plasters his face. “Don’t I get one, too?” he asks, making her roll her eyes. Her mother sends her glare, making Lydia clench her jaw before walking over to Stiles, wrapping her arms briefly around his slightly muscular torso, pulling away before he’s barely wrapped his arms around her in return.

“Oh, look. You two match. How cute!” Mrs. Martin exclaims, gesturing to the two teenagers.

Lydia glances over the boy’s outfit, internally groaning when she realizes her mother was right. Stiles wears a navy blue button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He wears a black pair of skinny jeans with his usual black and white Adidas originals. He tops off his hip outfit with a white bowtie and his hair quaffed up in the front.

She would never admit this out loud, but Stiles Stilinski was hot.

“Well, dinner is almost ready. Why don’t we go sit down in the dining room? My husband is already setting up the table,” Natalie says, leading the other three toward their dining room.

The four walk into the dining room, seeing Mr. Martin finish putting the last fork next to a plate. He smiles, greeting the two Stilinski men before they all take their seats. Like usual, Mr. Martin is at the head of the table with Mr. Stilinski to his left and his wife to his left. Lydia sits next to her mother and Stiles sits next to his father.

Mrs. Martin brings out the dinner of steak, baked potatoes, asparagus, green beans, with Coke for the teens and red wine for the adults. They all dig into their food greedily, Lydia not having eaten since the crappy school lunch at eleven thirty that morning.

The adults make quiet conversation, occasionally including the two teenagers in their discussions. It’s not until they get on a particular topic that makes Lydia want to leap for joy.

“So, Lydia, what are your plans for college?” Mr. Stilinski asks, finishing off the last of his steak. He takes a sip of his wine as he awaits Lydia’s answer.

“I’m attending Stanford in the fall,” she answers, smiling at the man.

“That’s amazing! What is your major?”

“I want to be a prosecutor.”

“Falling into the line of law enforcement, I see,” Sheriff says with a wink, causing Lydia to giggle.

“That I am, Mr. Stilinski.”

“What are you planning on doing for college, Stiles?” Natalie asks the boy who is absentmindedly picking at his asparagus.

He looks up at the woman, putting his fork down with a clink against the white glass of his plate. “I haven’t really decided yet. I know I want to be a detective, though. Growing up in law enforcement has rubbed off on me,” Stiles says, nudging his father in the shoulder.

“Looks like both our children are heading down the same road, John,” Mr. Martin says with a wink.

“They could be the dynamic duo!” Mrs. Martin exclaims, causing Lydia to roll her eyes and lean back in her chair.

“I can picture it now!”

Lydia stands up, taking the empty plates to the kitchen, ignoring the conversation that continues on with the adults. Once out of the dining room, she lets out a sigh of relief as she sets the plates in the sink.

Footsteps follow her into the kitchen, making her turn around and lean against the counter as Stiles stands in the doorway, holding his plate and glass. That infamous smirk still rests upon his lips. “I think you forgot some dishes,” he says, walking over to the sink, right next to her. He’s so close to her that his clothed arm brushes her bare one.

“I might have done it on purpose,” she tells him with a matching smirk, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I wouldn’t put it passed you,” he says, looking down at her. Even in heels, she still only comes to his shoulder. And it pisses her off. “You know, if you were any shorter, you’d probably be out of existence.”

Rolling her eyes, Lydia walks away, leaving Stiles to follow her. “Since when were you smart enough to make it into Stanford?” the boy asks, making the girl roll her eyes as she walks up the steps.

“Stiles, you’ve known me since we were four. We always try to outsmart the other. Why are you questioning me?” she asks as they enter her large bedroom, her falling onto her bed effortlessly as he sits on one of the couches in the little sitting area.

“Because I like to mess with you. It’s been like that for quite a while, now, Lydia,” Stiles comments, slinging his arm over the back of the chair.

“I didn’t know you wanted to go into law enforcement,” Lydia comments after a few moments of silence between the two.

“Well, I would’ve told you, but we’re not exactly friends,” Stiles remarks, sending her his infamous smirk.

Lydia rolls her eyes, propping herself up on her forearms. “Hey, I’m trying to be nice here. Don’t you think you could play along for just a few minutes?”

With a sigh, Stiles sits up on the couch, clasping his hands between his knees as he leans his forearms on his thighs. “For a while, no, I’ve been helping my father with his cases. There was one day we were going over a case of a homicide, and I was just sitting there at my father’s desk. I looked around his office, listening the ringing of the phones at the front desk, all of the other officers talking and bustling about, and I realized that this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. It just hit me. And I’m glad it did, because we’re only a few months from graduating, and I was scared as Hell not having a major yet.”

For once in her life, Lydia genuinely smiles at the boy, admiring his story. She never knew Stiles could be so thoughtful in something so serious. She’s only ever known him as the goofy, care-free teenager who doesn’t take anything seriously.

“That’s really great, Stiles. You know, even though we might hate each other, I’m happy for you,” she comments.

She thinks, just for a measly second, that he might be genuinely nice back to her, but that thought flies out the window the moment he shows her his smirk.

“You know, I think I might come to Stanford just for you, Lydia. Then you can be happy for me all you’d like to.”

The smile immediately drops from Lydia’s face as she stands from her bed, setting her perfectly manicured hands on her hips. “No. You are not allowed to come to my school.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow at her, leaning back into the couch. “And why not, Lydia? Don’t you think it would be fun to go to college together?”

“No, I don’t,” she says, walking closer to him. “Because you would take every opportunity you could to annoy the Hell out of me. You would make it your mission to make sure I wouldn’t get anything done. My whole college career would go down the toilet because of you. Hell, you’d probably even convince our parents that it would be cheaper for us to share an apartment together! Satan could sooner drag me to Hell than I would share a living space with you.”

She’s standing right in front of him as he sits on the couch as she ends her little rant, that smirk still on his face. It annoys her so much, but she doesn’t know if she wants to smack it off or kiss it off.

Did she just think that?

All of the sudden, she’s aware of the new found tension in the room, and it only gets greater when he stands up, his body only mere inches from touching hers.

“Oh, come on, Lydia. I think that living with you would be pretty…entertaining,” he says as he looks down at her, one of her biggest pet peeves.

“I thought I told you not to look down at me,” she says, her eyes focused on his lips instead of his whiskey colored eyes.

“That’s kind of hard to do when you’re so short.”

Lydia scoffs. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re narcissistic.”

“You’re spoiled.”

“You’re ignorant.”

“You’re intolerable.”

“You’re rude.”

“You’re a diva.”

“You’re an ass.”

“You a princ—“

“Don’t finish that word,” Lydia spits, glaring at the boy. If there was another thing to add to the list of things Lydia Martin couldn't stand, it was being called a princess. She was not a princess.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Stiles asks, that stupid, pretty boy smirk reappearing on his pale pink lips with his perfect cupid’s bow. She made a decision on what to do about it.

And it wasn’t to slap it off.


End file.
